


tendons too torn to beg (for you to let me back in)

by worry



Series: little bits of stardust [15]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Episode: s01e13 Morning Star, probably?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8391505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worry/pseuds/worry
Summary: What hurts the most, the thing that makes him really ache, is how familiar he is with Simon. He knows the way that Simon smells; sickly, because every fledgling smells sickly, but with Simon it’s all different. Simon smells like – life, like something sick coming back to life. Like hope crawling out of its grave. He knows the way that Simon sounds; the unnecessary breaths, the way that his voice mumbles when he talks because he still hasn’t gotten used to his fangs, the wrong thing in his mouth, and the way that he taps his fingers, the exact sound that he makes when he wakes up in the morning. A yawn like a wolf’s howl. But worst of all, he knows the way that Simon feels.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleInkhorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleInkhorn/gifts).



> SORRY THIS IS SO LATE ASDFGHJGFDS

What hurts the most, the thing that makes him  _really_ ache, is how  _familiar_ he is with Simon. He knows the way that Simon smells; sickly, because every fledgling smells sickly, but with Simon it’s all different. Simon smells like – life, like something sick coming  _back to_ life. Like hope crawling out of its grave.

 

He knows the way that Simon sounds; the unnecessary breaths, the way that his voice mumbles when he talks because he still hasn’t gotten used to his fangs, the wrong thing in his mouth, and the way that he taps his fingers, the exact sound that he makes when he wakes up in the morning. A yawn like a wolf’s howl.

 

But worst of all, he knows the way that Simon  _feels;_ he knows the touch of Simon’s hands, the way his fingers curl around Raphael’s shoulder, around his arm, right up and around his soul. He knows what Simon feels like when he’s hurt, when Raphael  _touches_ him and Simon throws him up into a truck because, in Simon’s words, he is a monster. He knows what Simon feels like and it hurts, the grasp that he nearly had and the way that it all slipped out of reach.

 

It has been two days since Simon betrayed him.

 

He doesn’t matter in this. What  _really_ matters is that Simon had a home. Simon had a family in the vampires, and the vampires are  _loyal,_ the vampires would do  _anything_ for their kind. Simon had everything, and he tore it all away, tore up the trust in the family and the bond between them all. No one has talked to Raphael outside of necessity since Simon left. Simon is gone. Simon is  _gone._

Raphael’s downfall – is  _trusting._ Always has been.

 

///

 

Simon—

 

Simon is  _hungry._

 

He has never been this hungry.

 

It’s crawling inside of him, this hunger. He doesn’t remember living without it. He’s passed out twice – both from starvation and the fact that he hasn’t slept in two days. The exhaustion consumes him; he is broken, decaying, and _hungry._

 

Always hungry.

 

There’s one thought that doesn’t seem to go away:  _Raphael._

He knows Raphael. He  _knew_ Raphael.

 

There was almost something between them. He’s not sure what, but there was  _something_ growing between the two of them, pulling them together fatefully. It could have been—

 

He can’t think about it. Not love. Never  _love._

 

Thinking about that just makes the hunger deepen.

 

///

 

It’s been three days since Simon betrayed him.

 

He used to think that his heart didn’t matter in this, he used to think that his feelings were separate, clean-cut, buried away, but it’s starting to  _hurt._ He hasn’t eaten much since Simon left. He hasn’t left the Hotel, he hasn’t left his  _room_ outside of the necessary clan meetings.

It has taken a bigger toll on him than he previously thought.

 

///

 

On the fourth day After-Simon, some of the vampires find him.

 

The group is composed of the quietest, shyest members of the clan; he never imagined that they would be the ones to break the silence, but he also never expected Simon to betray him.

 

“We are worried about you, Raphael,” says Sonya, who apparently leads the group. She is the youngest member and was turned only five years ago – Raphael took care of her back then, gave her comfort when Camille terrified her. Raphael knows every clan member intimately, but no one needs to  _worry_ about him.

 

No one has ever  _worried_ about him.

 

“And why is that?” he asks.

 

“You’ve been acting strange,” says Mary, quietly, from the back. She sounds frightened. Raphael doesn’t want to make anyone  _frightened._

“I appreciate the concern,” he says flatly. “But it’s unfounded. I want everyone to know that I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

 

Sonya opens her mouth as if to say something like  _but Raphael…_

He raises his eyebrows. “I promise.”

 

The group seems to understand that he’s done with the conversation. They walk away with their heads down, and even someone  _without_ enhanced hearing would be able to hear Sonya’s whisper of  _Mary, you were right. Raphael misses him._

///

 

Raphael does not miss Simon. That is not the case. There’s no word for what he feels – he thinks, often, about Simon’s mannerisms. Occasionally, one of the clan members will use the kind of colloquialism that Simon used to love, and it makes Raphael shiver. Makes him feel even colder.

Simon left and took Raphael’s warmth with him.

 

It is the sixth day After-Simon. Mary, Sonya, and the rest of the group have been visiting him relentlessly; logically, Raphael knows that this is because they _care –_ they actually _care_ and _love –_ but it all feels empty. He is empty.

 

Raphael leaves the Hotel for the first time in six days. He walks outside of it for a while, deep in the night, just to get away from it all, the uncomfortableness of having someone actually _care_ for him – it has been so long since someone has actually _cared_ for him, but with the clan it feels genuine. Maybe, he thinks, it will bring his warmth back. Maybe. Maybe all that Raphael wants is that warmth back.

 

The night is particularly cold. Everything is particularly cold when you’re undead – this is because you have no body heat, no _warmth_ – but tonight is colder.

 

He tugs his jacket a little bit tighter around him. Now is not the time to think about warmth.

 

///

 

“Go back to him,” says one part of Simon, deep in his mind. “Maybe he’ll forgive you. Maybe – maybe he’ll give you something to eat. Maybe—”

 

“He won’t,” says another part, logic buried even _deeper._ “You messed up. He wants to kill you. He tried to kill you. You messed up. You betrayed him. He will _never_ forgive you.”

 

“Shut _up,_ ” Simon says, out loud, and sets his mental destination for the Hotel DuMort.

 

///

 

The first person to alert him, as if Raphael is completely incapable of sensing Simon on his own, is Arthur, and he does it in the rudest way possible—

 

“Your boyfriend is here.”

 

Raphael should have him disowned by the clan, should do _something_ to punish him because _he told the clan to **kill** him, _but Simon is a more pressing issue. He will figure out the repercussions of this later.

 

“I hope you’re not referring to Simon Lewis,” he says, in an attempt to calm the situation.

“Yeah, well,” he says, “I am, and if I were you, I’d get down there real fast before everyone else does. It won’t be pretty.”

 

“And, tell me, why should I care? The clan knows what happened. I’m sure they’re more than capable of dealing with this on their own. We’re smart, you know that.”

 

Arthur smiles softly. “Okay then. Guess we’ll see what you’re like when sweet little Sonya’s got his guts on the outside of his body. Did you know she’d do anything to make you happy? And that girlfriend of hers—”

 

“ _Enough._ ”

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

Raphael hisses at him. “I’ll deal with you later. For now – tell everyone to stay put. I’ll handle this myself.”

 

Raphael blinks and Arthur is gone; for once, the Hotel is completely and wholly _silent._

///

 

He corners Simon outside of the Hotel, pushes him right up against a wire fence – he had been standing here hours ago, taking in the cold, but now the air feels entirely different.

 

Simon looks… _dead._

He used to be so full of life, but now he looks sick, smells sick, gravel and blood litters his body and Raphael feels almost _sorry._

Then he swallows that sorry down, weak, and hisses: “What are you _doing_ here?”

 

“I-I-I’m… sorry,” Simon says.

 

Raphael studies him. “No, you’re just hungry. Get out of here.”

 

“I really am,” Simon says, “it was just to help her. My best friend.”

 

“You put everyone in danger,” Raphael growls. “I won’t say it again. Get out of here _now._ ”

 

“But—”

 

“Do you know how many people are listening in on this conversation?” he says. “If you don’t get the hell out of here right now, I’ll give them what they want, and I’m sure you can guess what that is.”

 

“Yeah, okay, I get that you want to kill me, and that everyone wants to kill me, but Raphael…”

 

Raphael stares at him.

 

“I’m – I won’t lie to you, I’m _hungry,_ I’m starving, I’m going crazy, I’m talking to myself, I’m…”

 

He sighs and thinks about Simon, newly turned, screaming _you’re a monster,_ caked deep in dirt and devouring _blood and blood and blood and—_

Blood.

 

He’s watching it happen all over again, history repeating itself.

 

“Simon.”

 

“I’ll go, sorry, I’m sorry, this is stupid. You’ll never see me again, promise.”

 

Raphael grabs him by the shoulder. Simon’s eyes widen, and Raphael can tell that he’s thinking that it’s the end, that Raphael is going to kill him – Raphael _should_ kill him, but Raphael’s downfall is pity and trusting. It always will be.

 

He moves his jacket back slowly and bares his neck.

 

“What?”

 

“Before I change my mind. It’ll get you sane for a little while. I hope you use that time wisely.”

 

When Simon sinks into him—

 

When Simon sinks into him he feels _warm._ His teeth meet Raphael’s skin and  - and – and it’s beautiful, _beautiful,_ Raphael hasn’t felt like this in ages. _Decades._

He wraps his hands around Simon’s waist, pulls him closer, _closer,_ and – and he _moans._ Everyone in the clan can hear it, but that doesn’t matter; what matters is Simon and this closeness, and the warmth growing between them.

 

They stand like this for a few minutes – Simon in his neck, Raphael’s hand around Simon tight – but it’s not long enough, it will _never_ be long enough, if Simon takes too much—

 

He would give anything if it meant this feeling would last just a little bit longer.

 

Simon pulls away. His face is bloody, but _alive._ Simon, finally, looks alive.

 

“Thank you,” Simon says. “So much. Thank you so much. I’m… gonna go now, I’ll leave you alone, you’ll never see me again, all that.”

 

“ _Wait._ ”

 

“What?”

 

Raphael watches him, up and down – his hand is still around Simon’s waist, they’re still pressed so _close_ together, and he knows that Simon can feel it, he _knows_ that Simon feels it too. This warmth, the heat.

 

It’s Simon who initiates it; he kisses Raphael with Raphael’s blood still in his mouth, Raphael’s hands meet Simon’s skin—

 

Simon’s skin is warm.

 

Raphael kisses him, _breathes,_ and as Simon moves lower he thinks about:

 

_Warmth._

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you think :0 :0 
> 
> Also Mary and Sonya are totally gfs. ;)


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